I'm not a queen!
by Kurotalia13
Summary: In which Elsa is transgender and nobody seems to remember this. Okay, I seriously don't know what I've just written. Don't ask, do tell me if I should continue this.


**Elso's voice:**

** post/68957404652/this-is-what-happens-when-your-friend-reminds-you**

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Oh my god, you're kidding me.

A pair of ice blue eyes are looking at an article of clothing. These eyes belong to me, soon-to-king Elso. Yes, king. Yes, Elso. Nobody seems to remember that that's who I've become, though. Sure, I don't look as masculine as I could be, but that doesn't change anything about who I am, really. I definitely sound the part, though. It's taken a while, but my voice is completely male. I wonder if anybody even noticed that I had started getting male hormones to change my voice?

Right, right, the whole 'you've gotta be kidding me' thing. It's not that hard to realize what's going on. What do you think it is? Maybe it's that nobody realizes I identify as a guy. Of course that's it, because if somebody would realize this, I wouldn't be standing in front of a beautiful dress in only my binder and underwear. Okay, yes, the dress is wonderful, the colours work great together, it probably fits me perfectly. Problem: IT'S A FREAKING DRESS. I can't wear a dress. Do I look like I can wear a dress? No, do I SOUND like I can wear a dress? Everybody in the castle should have realized by now that I've considered myself to be male for about four years.

Okay, I need to calm down. Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. I can do this, nothing is going to stop me and- oh come on, I was not trying to make that icicle. Somebody get that icicle away from me. Wait, no, I seriously need to talk to somebody, I am not cool with this dress. Haha, ice pun. It takes me all of five seconds to ring a bell for somebody to knock on the door. It's just a random maid, but that's unimportant.

"Yes, milady?" She asks. Conceal, don't feel, I can't let her or anybody else know. I'm calm. I've got this. Clearing my throat now, trying to sound as masculine as possible.

"Yes, it's the dress."

"Well, what's wrong with it?"

"It's a dress." I believe is specifically asked for a tuxedo?

"Oh, I'm sorry, let me go and..." Her voice fades away as she rambles. She probably heard my voice and was reminded that I'm now a guy.

That leaves me to sit on my bed, not wearing very much clothes at all. Except I can't do that. Don't want to freeze the sheets right now. Might as well stand up and walk over to look at a mirror. My reflection is kind of... not satisfying in the slightest. I suppose I could see somebody finding me attractive for a girl, but as a guy? No chance. Maybe a should cut my hair. Is there a way for me to do that and not look terrible? Maybe, but I don't want to look terrible. I should probably call the hairdresser in to do that for me. I take a silky white lock between my bare fingers and watch the frost spread. My feet carry me to the windowsill and I rest my elbows on it, looking out to the dark sky. The sun hasn't even risen yet. That's a good thing, though. They may have to make a tuxedo from scratch for me. I feel terrible about it but I can't wear a dress. That wouldn't help me at all. I must be really out of it if I'm forgetting things so easily.

Another bell is rung and I call my hairdresser into a room beside mine. I can't let anybody in there, I can't let them know. I've put on a pair of slacks and a simple shirt to cover myself before he comes in. Thankfully he has the perfect image in his head for me with short hair. I don't really understand how, but that's a good thing I suppose? As soon as he says he's finished I look in the mirror, unimpressed.

"Henri?" I clasp my hands together and try not to show any signs of ice.

"Oui?"

"I'm not a queen!"

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**A/N- What did I just write? I don't even know if I should be ALLOWED to write this! Gosh, this is probably the second weirdest thing I've written! Anyways, I found the tumblr post I linked up at the top and though: What if Elsa was transgender? So then this happened. Tell me if I should continue. I really have no idea.**


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